


Blood Ties

by wingthing



Series: The EQ Alternaverse [41]
Category: Elfquest
Genre: EQ Alternaverse, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:55:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingthing/pseuds/wingthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can Leetah ever reconcile herself to her lifemate's mortality?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Ties

I. 

Blood, bestial and mortal. She could smell it on the air as she healed the gash to his thigh. She could feel the impurities clinging to her fingertips even after she sealed his torn skin. She had been healing Wolfriders for years, even since she had carried fragile Dewshine into her hut. But she never lost her horrified fascination for that taint in their blood. 

A healing always left her weary and vulnerable… yet strangely aroused. Sometimes it was joining she hungered for, other times a good argument. She used to count on Rayek for both. But he was gone across the sea. So was his lifemate, her personal gadfly. 

“Your leg will bear your weight,” she instructed. “But no running for an eight-of-days. Let that beast of yours carry you. At the rear of the hunt – there are enough riders to take your place.” 

“My place is at the heart of the kill. I am a Wolfrider.” 

“I’m well aware of it. But it is a diseased mind that seeks relief from pain by causing it. And killing all the prey in the desert won’t bring back your lovemate.” 

He glared at her sharply. She met his predator’s stare without fear. The wolf didn’t frighten her. It never had. 

“That was cruel. I didn’t think you had it in you, healer.” 

“I thought your kind appreciated the truth, however cruel.” 

“I have let Dewshine go. I wish her well with Tyldak. I have taken a new lovemate. Can you say the same of yourself?” 

She bristled at that. His keen eyes could see much. She had known joinings since Rayek had left her for the Wolfrider chief, to be sure, but she had yet to keep an elf for more than a night. 

“Shushen isn’t your lovemate,” she sneered. “He is simply your pet. He gives, and you take, and you feel a dim sort of gratitude, that’s all. But you have no room in your heart for him.” 

“What do you know of my heart?” 

“I have touched your heart, Wolfrider. I have felt your blood rushing through it.” Tainted blood, brimming with disease. “And it doesn’t beat any faster for Shushen, no matter how he dotes on you.” 

“You’re wrong. Shushen understands me. He is a Rider – a hunter.” He scowled. “And since when does my heart interest you?” 

“It doesn’t,” she replied tartly. “Nor do your thigh muscles, but I will need to tend them again if you do not heed my words.” 

Scouter shot her a parting glare, equal parts resentment and confusion, as he limped out of her hut. Silhouetted in the doorway, he made a fine physical specimen. Leetah smiled and beckoned her little dunecat to her lap. She could be a hunter too. 

II. 

Bloodsong. The Wolfriders had taught her the word. It could mean so many things: the thrill of the hunt, the dance of life-and-death, the ecstasy of joining. Yet in the end all these sensations were one: the rush of skyfire in the veins. 

The Scouter she’d known as a lovesick cub had been a timid thing, best handled with gentleness. But the Scouter who returned from war and heartbreak looked for something else. He was a predator who secretly yearned to become prey. A wild wolf in need of taming. 

She couldn’t tame him, and she had no wish to. But she enjoyed the fight. As did he. 

Their courtship was brief, their couplings heated, yet tinged with a vulnerability that touched her, most unexpectedly. He was still so young. 

Shushen had no intention of losing his lovemate. But he understood that no matter how he pleased Scouter, the Wolfrider would always yearn for maidens. Just as Leetah understood no matter how she enticed him, Scouter would always have more in common with the hunter. 

But they could share. In truth, she was grateful for Shushen’s presence. The Wolfrider’s passions ran towards the possessive – her freedom was best served by keeping his heart divided. And when the three of them came together, they made a magic all their own. 

She could never forget what he was. At every joining, she could feel the wolf in his veins calling to her. She could taste death in all his embraces. 

It was… strangely exciting to flirt with death. 

III. 

Shushen’s blood, sprayed on the ground. She would have run to him, but her parents held her fast. She could only scream in impotent fury as his precious immortality bled out of him. 

Scouter raced to Shushen’s side. He tried to lift him, but it was far too late. Surely he knew it. Surely the hunter in him recognized the face of death. 

Another human arrow caught Scouter in the hip. The scent of wolf’s blood filled the air. 

She tore from her parents. She found a strength she never knew she had. She ran blindly across the sand. Arrows and stone pocked the sand around her. All she could think of was reaching Scouter. She had already lost one lovemate. She would not lose another. 

An arrow whizzed at her head. But it bounced off an invisible barrier. Leetah felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Rayek’s little granddaughter. 

“Come on!” Tass shouted. She helped Leetah haul the Wolfrider to his feet. 

“Shushen–” Scouter began. 

“Leave him!” Tass snapped. “You can’t save him!” 

They ran, dragging Scouter between them. Leetah did not look back, not even when she heard the screams as Savah fell to the human’s weapons, not even when the great Bridge of Destiny crumbled under the wrathful magic of Yurek’s spirit. Sorrow’s End was dead; she did not need to see the corpse to be certain. 

Only once they were safe inside the rockshaper escape tunnel did she weep. 

She had always known she would need to bid goodbye to a lovemate. But she had never thought it would be Shushen. 

IV 

Blood – its name was Jial. She could smell it on his breath. In that moment she had a Wolfrider’s senses. Recognition. After so long, she finally understood it. 

**Oh… High Ones!** he sent. **I – I didn’t know it would feel…. you’re so… but you’re weeping!** 

**Your blood… it calls to me. Jial…** 

He was smiling. **This is what I tried for… but could never reach with Dewshine. I know you, Leetah, and you know me!** 

His blood – flawed, diseased, mortal! – soon it would mingle with hers. Their child would be a part of them both. His blood would carry the same defects of this world, the same silent killer, winnowing away his life from the moment he drew his first breath. 

“I can’t bear your child!” 

“But – but we are meant for each other! I don’t understand – after all we’ve lost… how can you not rejoice at the new life we will make?” 

“You don’t understand!” she sobbed. “You’re a Wolfrider! What if the child takes after you? I don’t want a baby that will be born only to die!” 

A solution presented itself. She grasped at it. **Jial – you must let me cleanse you of your wolfblood!** 

His eyes widened in horror. **You would open that door again – at a time like this?! When you know my very soul – when you know the wolf is as much as part of me as the elf?** 

“Don’t say that!” she shrieked, her hands rising to cover her ears. Scouter hastened to take her in his arms. “Hush, hush,” he soothed, but she knew he didn’t intend to comfort, but to silence. The stone walls of their chambers were thick, but not impenetrable. And many elves lived inside the sandstone spire, in their new Oasis. 

“You know me, Leetah,” he whispered fiercely. “You know what I am. And you have Recognized me – all of me. You cannot deny it.” 

“I do deny it,” she wept, even as she clung to his arm. “I am a healer. I will always deny death. It is the enemy.” 

“No. It is neither friend nor foe. It simply is. For mortals and immortals alike. Or have you forgotten Shushen?” 

“You would taunt me with him at a time like this?” she spat. 

“Or Savah?” he twisted the knife. 

“She was weary. She wanted a transformation. She chose death.” 

“As do I. And my life is richer for it.” 

“Your life is ending, one heartbeat at a time! You purge a fever when you can – you always seek a healing against sickness! Yet you carry the worst disease of all inside you. Fine – run to death if you will. I’ll honor your choice. But I will not allow you to infect an innocent child with your poison!” 

“You will not allow? You have no choice. You are a healer – you know this!” 

She laughed in his face. “Oh, I can be a fighter too, Scouter. I have weapons you cannot begin to guess at.” 

“Maybe you can refuse Recognition. And what then? Our child will never be born – never know life or death! Is that really better?” 

**Our child will be born. But it will be born as I will it! Fall to time’s scythe if you like - like ripened corn! But I swear, Jial, if you plant a child in me, I will purge all the wolfblood from its veins before I let it draw breath!** 

Scouter recoiled in horror. “You… you would do that? Dictate our child’s very nature, alter its own soul to suit your own whims? Did I Recognize the Black Snake?” 

“Don’t you compare me to her!” 

“You say you’ll honor choice, but you would give our child none?” 

“I will not lose my child!” 

“Why must death be about loss?” Scouter asked, genuinely bewildered. Leetah drew back from the utter animal ignorance in his eyes. 

“Oh, Jial, I don’t know you after all. And I don’t want to!” 

She ran from their room. She dashed through the corridors until she emerged into the evening air. She ran as if she could outpace the beating of her heart. 

V. 

Birth-blood stained the sheets. She wept, from exhaustion and grief. Wolfblood, diluted but still mortal. 

“You have a son,” Lady Chani said, as she held the baby aloft. 

“A son!” Scouter cried, squeezing Leetah’s shoulders. “It’s done, lifemate! It’s over. We have our boy!” 

Their mortal boy. 

She had tried to refuse Recognition. She had used all her healer’s powers, and suppressed the raging hunger inside her to the point where she could almost bear it. But she couldn’t ease Scouter’s pain. And as she’d watched him wither away from heartsickness, love had compelled her where mere bloodsong could not. 

“What can I do?” she’d begged to her parents. “He demands I promise to leave the choice to the child. But how can a little spark in my womb possibly choose for itself?” 

“Your intended is wiser than you know,” came Sun-Toucher’s advice. “A child’s soul can sing, even when it is but a spark. So let the child call what blood it will.” 

“But what if it calls the death to itself? Scouter – he is still but a stripling, half my age. Yet as near as I can tell, his blood has already used up a full sixth of his life-force. He will never grow to be as old as you. He will wither and die like a tree without water! And so will the child!” 

“And if the child takes after the father, then it will have six times six hundred years to choose another path.” 

Six times six hundred. It seemed like so long. Three times again her own lifespan. Surely, much could change in so many years. 

So she surrended to Jial. She surrendered to the wolf. And every night, she silently begged her child to choose the stars, not the dirt. Every night for two years, she fought the urge to stretch out her senses and learn the truth. 

And now she knew. 

He would have more that six times six hundred years. Many times more. He might even live to see the Palace of the High Ones appear in the skies over Thorny Mountain, seconds before the troll rebellion threw it back in time. 

But one day he would die. 

VI. 

Blood could not flow without a strong heart to pump it. And though the infant carried the blood but two generations removed from the High Ones themselves, her malformed heart simply could not keep it flowing properly. 

She slept now, in the little basket at the foot of Jarrah and Ekuar’s bed. Her brown skin had little warmth to it; her lips and ears and chubby fingertips were the color of ash. 

How could Leetah had missed it? She had been checking Jarrah every moon-dance for the last two years. She had known Ekuar’s old blood had little strength to offer his child. Yet the pregnancy had advanced as uneventfully as her own. Not until the birthcord was cut did the problem reveal itself. And even then, the defect was so subtle, the decline so gradual… the babe had nearly slipped away in her mother’s arms without them noticing. 

Leetah had cursed herself for her carelessness, during that first frantic resuscitation. But she restarted the tiny heart. She sealed the many pinprick holes in the muscle. She massaged the walls to make them stronger. The effort only made the heart stop again, prompting a second revival, more violent than the first. 

Now, after five days of constant vigil, Leetah cursed her watchfulness – for it was obvious that it would have been better to let the little girl die that first day. 

The thought made her sick. 

It had taken much persuasion from Ekuar and Rayek, and the culmulative exhaustion of five sleepless nights, to make Jarrah leave her infant’s side. Now Rayek sat watch, attentive to any change in the girl’s breathing, as the grieving mother went to bathe. 

**She looks too gray,** Rayek insisted. 

**She is resting. Her heart is calm now. Be thankful for that.** 

**I’d be more thankful if you could do your job properly, healer!** 

She took his condemnation back to Scouter. She wept in her lifemate’s arms as she confessed her failures. “I can’t do it! I can’t heal her. She’s too little – too frail – the pain I must first cause will kill her. If she were bigger… but she how can she ever grow, when her heart can barely keep beating now?” 

“It’s not your fault. Some children are meant to thrive, some to wither – among beasts and elves alike. It’s all part of the Way.** 

“Oh, choke on your Way!” Leetah snarled. 

“I only speak truth. There’s a reason our kind relies on Recognition to breed. That girl is a child born of chance, and chance did not favor her.” 

“Is that the message I am to take to her parents? ‘I’m sorry, but Taimi was a poor roll of toss-stone – better luck next time.’” 

“The Leetah I know never shrinks from the truth, however cruel.” 

Leetah felt her anger dissolve into sorrow. “The truth… is that I should never have restarted her heart. I should never have given them hope.” 

“Then give them truth now,” Scouter urged. “Her heart will fail again. You cannot sit by her side every moment. And she should have not to spend her short life in pain. It’s a kindness to let her go. They need to hear that.” 

Leetah shook her head. “I can’t…” 

**What would you do, if it were Pool lying there?** 

She stared at him in horror. How could he wound her so – remind her of that day that would surely come, when little Pool’s heart would be too frail to beat? She wanted to scour the knowledge of that day from her mind. But Scouter only stared at her, his wolf eyes boring a hole into her soul, until she gave him the answer he sought. 

**I would fight for every second of his life. Even though I knew it was wrong. Even though I knew it was selfish. I am a selfish creature, Jial. You know this.** 

**No, you’re the most giving soul I’ve ever met. And you must share that gift with Jarrah and Ekuar. Teach them to give their child the gift of peace.** 

Peace… could death grant what a healer could not? How could she even consider the question? What corruption had Recognition to Scouter planted in her? She was a healer, yet she was contemplating letting death win. 

Yet how was this any different from leaving the wolfblood to fester inside Pool? Surely, that was the greater crime. She kept telling herself she would have ample time to cure him, but with each day, her kitling was slowly dying. And she was letting it happen. 

She went to Jarrah and Ekuar. She spoke the terrible truth, and Jarrah would hear none of it. In that moment the gentle farmer became a lioness fighting for her cub. Her daughter would live, even if life had to be forced upon her frail heart every day. And if Leetah would not swear to attend her, they would seek out a healer who would. 

Leetah swore. She all but wept with relief. And if she wept with grief at times, as she tortured little Taimi’s heart again and again, she told reminded herself that life – however hard – was always preferably to death. 

It seemed Taimi agreed. Her heart faltered many times, but never gave up fighting. And as she grew into a willful girl-child, defying all Scouter’s toss-stone odds, Leetah could not help but flaunt her pride in her work. 

“Death is always the healer’s enemy,” she told Pool, when his lessons began. “No matter what pretty face it might wear. Remember that, son.” 

VII. 

Blood – of some four-legged beast – her son reeked of it. Her beautiful, nearly-grown son. He was sobbing like a baby, his tunic and bare arms stained with blood. His legs wouldn’t work – Scouter had to hold him up by the scruff of the neck. He thrust Pool into Leetah’s arms. 

“Heal him!” he snapped, with anger born of fear. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him!” 

She saw no injury. She touched Pool’s forehead and sensed no physical pain. But his mind was screaming, as if in terrible pain. 

**Shhh, peace my little kitling. What is wrong?** 

But Pool could only answer in a wild flurry of thoughts – primitive, animal thoughts of pain and terror. 

“Come inside, quick!” she urged, drawing her son inside the Spire, away from the crowd that was beginning to gather. 

Scouter explained it all, as Leetah set a soothing veil of magic over Pool’s head. A crescent-horn, a fine prize. The honor of the kill given to Pool, a privilege to finish off the dying beast. An honor that sent him shaking as he staggered up to the beast. He laid his hand on the crescent-horn’s throat, he had the knife poised to deliver a clean kill, as Scouter had showed him. 

Then the crescent-horn had bucked, and staggered to its feet despite the three arrows in its flanks. One of the jackwolves had tried to bring it down and earned a hoof to the jaw. And Pool had starting screaming. 

“Fennec got the beast back down. When he finished it, I swear Pool lost his mind. He’s been sobbing every since. Like… he got his mind scrambled up with the crescent-horn’s. Like he was the one who died.” 

“Son?” Leetah asked. Pool had finally fallen silent. He wiped at his runny nose. “Did you touch minds with the crescent-horn?” 

“I felt his pain,” Pool admitted. “He was hurt… so badly… but he wanted to live.” He turned an accusing glare at Scouter. “He wanted to live!” 

“Timmorn’s blood,” Scouter moaned. 

“Timmorn’s blood, indeed!” Leetah snapped. “Your blood! The wolf’s blood you gave our son. It gives him the ability to link minds – not just with wolves – but with any beast he chooses. It lets him feel their pain as thought it were his own.” 

“You tried to heal the crescent-horn, didn’t you?” Scouter charged. “That’s why he got up. That’s why Sandpelt has a broken jaw! What were you thinking?” 

“I told you not to take him on the hunt until he has better control,” Leetah protested. 

“He’s a Jackwolf Rider!” 

“And a healer! Whose powers are just beginning emerge. He cannot help himself. He senses pain, and he wants to soothe it. It is in his blood,” she added triumphantly. “Or have you forgotten he is my son as well as yours?” 

“High Ones, Leetah,” he moaned, head in his hands, “I don’t want to have this fight again.” 

“I can help myself,” Pool protested. “I knew what I was doing!” 

“Then why did you heal him?” Scouter demanded, incredulous. “That crescent-horn was food for us and half the village!” 

“It’s wrong!” Pool insisted. 

“Wrong? I don’t understand, cub. What’s wrong? It was a good hunt. The crescent-horn was old. Its time had come. Its bloodsong was fading, and it understood.” 

“You’re wrong. He wanted to live! I felt it! He was angry, afraid. You always say the animals know, that they accept it – but they don’t! They die screaming inside, fighting to the end.” 

Scouter bowed his head. “I’m sorry you had to go feel that, Pool. Of course it can be hard. But it is the Way. The weak feed the strong, until the strong become weak in turn. Death feeds life, and life surrenders to death. The wolf in you knows this.” 

“I don’t know that,” Pool said, more calmly now. 

“If you do not wish to make the kill, I respect that. But we need to eat. You cannot ride with the hunt if you interfere.” 

“I’m not riding with the hunt anymore. I’m not helping you take lives.” 

Leetah smiled triumphantly. “Nor should you have to. You are a healer, son. Your place is here with me.” 

Scouter sighed and shook his head. “As you will, cub. Now I’ll see to the crescent-horn.” 

After the jackwolves ate their fill and the meat was divided up between the households, there was precious little to bring into the healer’s house. Still, Leetah divided the cutlet into three pieces. Scouter ate his raw, while she fried the two remaining portions in oil. 

“I can’t eat this,” Pool said, when it was placed in front of him. 

“Is it still too tough, kitling?” Leetah asked. 

“I can’t eat this! Not after I touched minds with him. Not after I felt him die!” 

“Oh, for Freefoot’s sake,” Scouter moaned, snatching up Pool’s portion. “Next you’ll be telling me you won’t eat any meat!” 

VIII. 

“It’s my blood, Mother. Wolf, elf – they’re both a part of me. You’ve no right to tell me I must choose one or the other.” 

Leetah shook her head. “But Pool, haven’t you chosen already? You shun the hunt, you refuse to eat the flesh of animals. You value your healing gifts.” 

The child shook his head. Child – but he wasn’t one anymore. He led a life of his own, apart from either of his parents. He studied with his grandfather Sun-Toucher or with Lord Haken. He helped in the fields at harvest time and used his animal-gifts to manage their growing zwoot herd. When he healed the injured, he did it in the privacy of his own rooms, away from his mother’s eyes. 

“I value my sensing gifts too. My ‘magic-feeling’ you used to call it. The power to bond with animals – that comes from the wolf in me, as much as it comes from the Sun Folk in me.” 

“But it’s brought you so much pain. You and your father–” 

“That was his fault! I would have sat at his table gladly, but he wouldn’t break bread with a son who wouldn’t eat his meat. Anyway… it’s better now. We give each other space.” 

“Your sire can be difficult. I know it well. It’s that wolf’s stubborness in him. And it will condemn him to a needless death. But Pool, I see the same thing in you. And it frightens me, to think you might walk down that same path.” 

He smiled patiently. “You gave me a precious gift, Mother. Choice. But now you must trust me to make the right one for me. I do not embrace death like Father does. I fight it. But I will fight it best with my wolfblood. For now.” 

“I will trust you,” she said, mirroring his smile. 

But she didn’t. How could she? Wasn’t he his father’s son? 

IX. 

Blood ran thin. Cells frayed like old cloth. Like some troll’s rusty clockwork toy, the wheels that drove the machine of the elfin body began to grind towards a halt. 

Scouter’s wound still oozed blood; healing him was akin to stitching dried leather. Leetah worked as gently as she could. She knew the discomfort he had suffered from his broken leg was nothing compared to what Lord Haken could choose to unleash. 

“You were seen by humans!” Haken thundered. “Worse, you attacked them! If the old hates ended during our long hiding, you’ve stirred them up again!” 

Scouter glared up at the High One. “You were the first to declare war on the humans. My lord,” he added with a mocking twist to his voice. 

**Why do you do this to yourself?** Leetah asked in lock-sending. 

He tired so easily now. His bones had gone brittle as old clay. Still, he insisted on riding his jackwolf on a patrol around the outer limits of the Thorn Fields, as if he were still a hunter patrolling his holt. 

He had found a trio of humans setting up camp less than a morning’s ride from the Great Gate. He had sent to Grayling and the other Jackwolf Riders, as the Way demanded. But when Grayling had ordered him to withdraw, he had taken matters into his own hands. 

Even white-haired and gaunt, he was faster than any human. Surprise allowed him to slay one. Another had knocked him down with one panicked sweep of his arm. The pair could have killed them there and then, had they been minded to vengeance. But fear of the little demon had sent them fleeing, long before the other riders could arrive. 

“You should have given chase!” Scouter snapped at Grayling. “Dead beasts tell no tales.” 

“And let you bleed out on the sand?” Grayling challenged. 

“My life means nothing now – but my son, my lifemate! All the helpless Sun Folk – those humans could threaten them all!” 

“Only because you revealed yourself,” Haken reminded him. 

“They were planning an attack on Oasis. I heard them. ‘Dishtyu,’ they said. Demons. They were planning to hunt demons!” 

Haken rolled his eyes. “I am amazed you can remember any of the human tongue. But did it occur you that perhaps they were discussing how best to avoid the demons?” 

“Don’t talk down to me!” 

“Oh, but how I can resist? When I am so… high above you.” 

“Lord Haken, please,” Leetah protested. “He needs to rest.” 

“He needs a tether. I’ll leave it to you and Grayling to devise one. But be mindful: my patience for his senile follies is wearing thin.” He turned on his heel and strode away. “And close the gates! No one goes out until the rains come!” 

Grayling helped Leetah get Scouter to his feet. “Just let us carry you,” Grayling urged, but Scouter insisted on limping between them as they led him towards his rooms in the Tallest Spire. 

“Will we lose this holt too?” he challenged. “Bearclaw’s beard – is there no where in this world that is not crawling with humans?” 

“It’s the yearly migration,” Grayling reminded him. “Those three were surely only scouts for a travelling herd.” 

“Herd – swarm, more like. They breed like rats – take more and more land every turn of the seasons. When we settled here there wasn’t a human within a moon’s hard ride. Now they set up camps all along the coast and climb even higher into the mountains.” 

“They’ll leave with the rains,” Leetah said. “They always do.” 

“And we cower in den-hide until then?” 

“We have plenty of food. It will be no hardship.” 

“That’s not the point!” Scouter pulled away from them both. “I am a wolf, not a burrowing ravvit! Wolves defend their territory. They don’t hide and wait for the hunter to smoke out their den. I heard them! They were there to hunt demons!” He looked to Leetah. “You believe me, don’t you, lifemate?” 

Leetah looked away. She could not lie to his face. 

“Scouter… you never could speak the human tongue very well,” Grayling said gently. 

“I can understand it well enough!” 

“And you’re… well… these days, you’re getting a little confused–” 

Scouter pulled away from both of them. “An addled old wolf? Is that what you think of me? At least I’m still a wolf! At least I can still scent a human on the wind. When I am gone – Timmorn’s blood, the only one left with even a drop of wolfblood is Pool, and we all know he lacks the stomach for the hunt. Who will protect Oasis when I am gone?” 

“We all will,” Grayling said gently. “But you won’t die for many years yet, Scouter.” 

“Dung to your sweet talk! You want me to die! You’re itching to be rid of me! You and Haken both. Get rid of all those wolfbloods – one way or the other!” 

His voice was drawing a crowd. “Peace, Scouter,” Grayling said. “You’re tired. You’re not yourself.” 

“Think I can’t see what he’s planning? He wants the humans to come! Then he can raise the walls higher and higher. Then he can seal us up inside – like a new Blue Mountain! And you’re letting him do it, Grayling! You’re the son of Bearclaw, but you’ve made us all into… chained near-wolves.” 

“That’s enough!” Grayling laid a firm hand on Scouter’s shoulder. 

Scouter punched him. 

He still had strength for a clean blow, though the effort exhausted him. Grayling stumbled a bit, then raised a hand to his bloody lip. His expression was one of utter shock. 

**Scouter, please…** he sent. 

Panting for breath, Scouter raised his fist again. “No sending – you’re locked out of my head!” he growled. “This gets decided by hand and heart!” 

“What does?” 

Scouter tried to strike him again. Grayling batted his arm away easily. “Come on, Scouter, you’re just making a fool of yourself now.” 

“Fool? I’ll show you! False chief!” Scouter reached for his sword, only to realize it had been taken away. “Where is it? Where’s my sword?” He staggered, his eyes searching desperately. His gaze fell on Leetah. “Where’s my sword!” 

**Jial, listen to me,** Leetah pleaded. **This isn’t you.** 

“You stole it! Traitor!” He lunged at her, but his wounded leg gave way. 

He growled and cursed as Grayling and Leetah helped him up. But he had already used up his last reserves of strength. When Leetah placed her hand on his forehead, he lapsed into sleep. 

Together they carried him back to his bed. He continued to twitch and grunt in his slumber, like a wolf chasing a dream. **High Ones… I knew he was getting… absent-minded. But that rage – has he ever been like this before?** Grayling asked Leetah privately. 

**Once or twice… when he’s tired or hungry. I try to ease his confusion… but he locks me out of his mind. A long sleep seems to help. For a time.** 

Grayling nodded gravely. **I remember… Strongbow got like this towards the end. Snapping at shadows, fighting his own friends.** 

“The end…” Leetah murmured. 

“He’s already outlived all his agemates. Redlance and Nightfall, Dart, Kimo…” 

“Only those who kept the wolfblood.” 

“Healer… he’s hardly likely to choose to give it up now.” 

“No…” Leetah admitted. She closed her eyes, and she felt the tears gathering behind her lashes. “Every day I ask him: ‘Won’t you let me take the pain away?’ You know what he says? He says it reminds him he’s alive. As if… that’s the only way he can still feel alive.” 

“Cholla used to say much the same thing, as I recall.” 

“That was different! That was pain with purpose! From the day she was born, Cholla fought for life.” She made a dismissive gesture. “Anyway, that’s ancient past. She’s learned to live with her heart. She’s a sensible girl now – she no longer runs to pain.” 

“Neither does Scouter. He just… doesn’t run from it.” 

“Then he’s a fool,” Leetah grumbled. “A selfish fool. He gives no thought to the suffering he causes others. Grayling, when he goes… I – I don’t… I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

“He’ll still be with you. In another way.” 

“But I won’t be able to see him – to touch him… t-to bicker with him every day about silly things.” 

“No.” 

“It’s getting harder and harder to heal him.” Leetah wiped the tears from her eyes. “But I do my best to make it as painless as possible.” She smiled sadly. “Perhaps that’s the best I can say about our life together. We made it as painless as possible. Perhaps that’s all any of us can hope for.” 

X. 

Blood feuds – some never died. “Please, Lord Haken,” Leetah implored. “I am begging you to reconsider. You cannot cast Scouter out. He is too old to survive outside by himself!” 

“Then he can go to the Great Holt!” the High One sneered. “See his former lovemate – she’s still a pretty thing, I hear. Or he can go to the Evertree – isn’t that where the mongrels go to die? You can go with him; we can spare you for however long it takes. Not too long, I should think. You’ll be welcome back. Maybe you’ll have better luck with your next Recognition.” 

“I will never Recognize again! He is my soul!” 

“I pity you, then.” 

“How can you be so cruel?” But she knew why. Haken hated the wolfblooded ones. He had declared war on the wolves even before Timmain had torn off his left arm. 

“He is an old, sick, miserable elf,” she argued. “He will die soon – what will it cost you to show mercy?” 

“There is one master inside these walls, and your Wolfrider is not it.” 

“He doesn’t mean–” 

“Of course he does! Insulting his own kin, challenging me in open council, spreading his ridiculous theories about my plans to enslave you all. Don’t think I don’t know what he whispers on his walks. He’d be hunting again if he could only find a guard to let him through the gate. I’ve shown him enough patience. Now I offer him a choice. Abide by my rule and hold his tongue, or leave.” 

“Are you so threatened by the complaints of a quarrelsome fool?” 

“Careful, healer. You are grieving, and I respect that, but I will not be scolded like a child. I have given my ruling. Your lifemate still has three days to make his submission. What does his kind call it – ‘showing throat’? If not, he must leave.” 

Scouter would not show throat. Nor would he slink away like a beaten wolf. 

“I don’t need the Palace,” he said, his voice rough like old sackcloth. “I won’t hide inside it – and I won’t go anywhere just to lie down and wait to die. I am a Wolfrider. I was born to hunt and to howl. And that’s how I’ll die.” 

“Where will we go, then?” 

He smiled wearily. “You’re not coming, Leetah.” 

“Of course I am!” 

“No, lifemate. Our time is at an end.” 

She stared at him, aghast. “You cannot mean that.” 

**It’s for the best. I know you – I know what it’s cost you to watch me fade. And… I know what it would cost you to see my end.** Something of the old spark shone in his tired eyes. They were slowly growing milky with cataracts. Without regular healing treatments, he would go blind under the glare of the Daystar. **It won’t be… pretty. And you deserve only pretty things.** 

She heard the truth in his sending, but still she shook her head. Scouter sighed and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “For once… lifemate… let’s not fight.” 

She wanted to weep. But she forced herself to be strong. It would be her final gift to him, since he wouldn’t accept the gift she wanted to give him. 

“Where… where will you go?” she asked. 

“I don’t know. Out there somewhere. Somewhere I can die as I was meant to. As a part of this world.” A strange sort of strength filled his voice, almost akin to joy. She understood then. He had always planned to end his journey alone. 

“Won’t you let someone accompany you? Pool?” 

“I’ll have Scarback with me. That’s all a Wolfrider needs.” 

“You won’t last a month!” 

His smile turned wistful. “Probably not. But I’ve lasted long enough.” 

XI. 

Bodies withered. Hearts failed. But bloodlines endured – High Ones willing. She saw Scouter every day in her son’s face. One day he would sire a child of his own – perhaps a Wolfrider, perhaps not. Jial’s spirit would never change, yet his blood would live on in his descendants, forever evolving, forever growing. There was peace to be found in that thought. 

She would find it one day. She was certain she would. After all, she had forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the full EQ Alternaverse at http://www.janesenese.com/swiftverse


End file.
